Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
13: Two Returns
The alarm clock rang shrilly that morning, piercing her ears as she was jolted awake, and as she reached a blind arm sideways to slam down upon the ringing contraption to silence it, Dora Lupin kept her eyes tight shut.
"Oh!" the newly reinstated Deputy Head of Aurors exclaimed hoarsely as she gazed despairingly into the back of her eyelids. "Tell me I'm dreaming!"
"That is what I think to myself most morning, my darling, when I wake up and find myself next to you." her husband mumbled sleepily from beside her, yawning widely, and, still refusing to open her eyes, Dora wondered:
"And when you realise it isn't a dream at all, Sweetheart, do you wish half as much as I do right now, that you could simply curl up and die?"
Remus Lupin pursed his lips together in consideration, before confessing:
"Perhaps every once in a while...!"
"Don't be such a git, Remus!" his wife snapped, reaching to clamp her hands over her eyes, and with that she sucked in a deep breath and confessed: "Merlin, I don't think I can do this..."
"You can do anything if you truly want to, Dora." Remus said, heaving himself up to lean back against the headboard. "Some people are just...blessed like that."
"I don't think I want to do this."
"Then you have a struggle on your hands, my darling, there is no doubt about it. But nothing worthwhile in life is ever won without a struggle."
And with that, the Auror sighed heavily, her hands falling back into her lap, and with that she reached to take her husband by the land, raising their entwined fingers to press a kiss to his knuckles as she whispered:
"Amen to that!"
Dora had never imagined the prospect of returning to the Ministry after a lengthy absence would make her feel so unbearably nervous. For one thing, it seemed faintly ridiculous to be nervous about a job she knew as well as the back of her hand, and for another Dora Lupin rarely got nervous about anything at all, let alone something as straight forward as this...
Even if she felt like absolute death to drag herself out of bed at such an early hour. Even if her legs seemed determined to buckle underneath her as she staggered out of the bedroom some minutes later. Even if she felt so helplessly weak and frail that returning to the hustle and bustle of Auror Headquarters seemed the most absurd thing in the world. She couldn't help but suspect that back in the old days hobbling cripples like her were sent home on lengthy sick leave, and yet here she was doing the precise opposite.
Her nerves settled a while upon shuffling to the bathroom and catching sight of Pandora curled up asleep on her makeshift bed before the fireplace. The girl was frowning in her sleep and as Dora crept into the bathroom she narrowly avoided slamming the door shut behind her in a sudden and uncontrollable bout of fury resurfacing from Remus' appalling news the previous afternoon.
Merlin, the witch thought furiously as she went to fumble with the heat gage of the shower, the icy spray of water making her jump a little, I'm going to bloody kill him...
There was something oddly appealing, she realised as she set about shrugging off her dressing gown and night dress, about being hauled up in front of the Wizengamot on disciplinary charges for choosing to murder Jeff Fawley rather than bring him in for sentencing.
That'll teach you to drag me out of bloody retirement...!
People had rarely died whilst attempting to evade capture by the Aurors on Dora's watch. Dead villains were never the object of the exercise, it simply wasn't the way the system worked.
But it had been known to happen. It was bound to happen and when it did society rarely bothered to raise an eyebrow. Sometimes it was an accident, sometimes it was simply the safe option, sometimes situation spiralled out of control, and every time the Aurors involved were summoned to explain their actions at a hearing in front of the Wizengamot to be sure that there had been no wilful wrong doing on their part.
Dora had been summoned to a number of these hearings over the years, often as a witness and, on a handful of occasions, as the person held responsible for the killing blow. Her first experience of this had been at the tender age of just twenty two, near on a year after she had first qualified as an Auror.
She could still recall apparating in the pouring rain at near on midnight to hammer a fist upon Alastor Moody's front door until he came to open it, finding her sodden and shivering, her eyes wide as she gasped in a breath to stutter:
"I...I've..."
"You've what, lass?" Moody had grunted impatiently, having answered the door in a faded brown dressing gown that she might have sniggered at if she had felt less traumatised.
"I've...I've killed a man!" she had blurted, promptly reaching to clamp a hand across her mouth.
Moody had huffed, as if this were no decent reason to call upon him at such a late hour, and then he had gruffly asked:
"And did he deserve it?"
Dora had simply stared at him in mute horror, before managing to utter:
"Wh...what?"
"Did he deserve to die, this man? Eh?!"
"I...well I...does...does anybody d...deserve it?!"
"Did he want to pay you in kind?!"
"I...he...he was...it got ugly and I...he started hurling Killing Curses..."
"Then he'd have seen you dead, lass! And he didn't know you from bloody Adam! And d'you what that means?"
"N...no..."
"If it were him stood here telling me he'd killed you and I asked him if you deserved it, he'd not be worrying about whether anybody deserves it or not! And what does that tell you, lass?! It tells you that yes, some people bloody well deserve to die! Because when you're stood there pointing wands at each other, they've no heart to see the rest of us live!"
Dora had struggled to swallow a lump in her throat to mumble:
"I...suppose, yeah..."
And Moody had huffed and observed:
"You're a bit bloody young to have blood on your hands, Nymphadora! Most of us are lucky enough to wait until we're out of nappies!"
And Dora had sniffed, reaching to swipe a hand across her eyes.
"What does it matter, Mad-Eye?" she had asked despairingly. "If you say we're to have a war? We'll all have blood on our hands, even us babies and nobody's going to give a toss how...how old we are or...or if we can...can wash our hands afterwards!"
"Aye, they won't." Moody had agreed, peering at her with scrutinising eyes. "So what're you going to do about it?"
Dora's gaze upon him had been simply shellshocked, and after a long pause he'd reached forward to grab her by the arm, dragging her inside out of the rain, grunting:
"Come in here lass, we'll get some drink down you."
Teddy had been a fully fledged Auror for almost four years when the same incident had befallen him for the first time.
Dora could recall that afternoon vividly, for she had been preparing to disappear home for the day when a trio of grim-faced Aurors had trailed into the office, fresh from a raid in Sussex, their robes rumpled and a couple sporting the odd cut and bruise.
"How was it?" the Deputy Head of Aurors had wondered as they shuffled towards her, their expressions making her steel herself for bad news. "Did you catch him?"
And Auror Hale Grover had reached to wipe a spec of mud from his chin before informing her:
"He's dead."
"What?"
"I said he's dead, Tonks."
"He's dead?"
"Yes, how many t..."
"He was dead before or after you got to him?!"
"After. He got flung across the clearing and struck his neck on a low hanging branch...snapped like a twig."
"Shit...who did it?"
"Teddy."
"Shit! Where is he now?!"
"In the men's locker room..."
She'd made a beeline for the room in question, flinging it wide open without invitation and, upon finding her son sat upon a bench in the corner, she instantly demanded of the remaining few wizards:
"Everybody out!"
"Tonks! I'm in my bloody underwear!"
"Yeah?! Well tough luck! I've not got time to wait for you to take your boxers off too! Now bugger off, I need to talk to Teddy!"
After some grumbling and fumbling around for clothes, the room had emptied and Dora had gone to crouch down before her son, hands reaching to rest upon his knees as he gazed blankly down at his boots.
"Tell me, love." she'd whispered, grip upon his knees tightening. "What happened today?"
"I don't know, Mum." Teddy had whispered back after long consideration. "I...I think I...I think I killed a man! I...Merlin...!"
"Look at me, Ted."
"I killed him, Mum. I did it. I killed him..."
"Look at me, Theodore." When he had consented to looking up at her bleakly she had cupped his face in her hands and insisted: "You are doing a job, Sweetheart. It's a difficult job. It's a job with serious consequences. And just because it's your job doesn't make it acceptable. Just because it's your job it doesn't mean killing a man is alright. But it means you have to live with yourself, Sweetheart. Because if you don't you'll do no job at all. And what's our job, Ted? What is it that we are doing here?"
"We're...we're upholding Wizarding law..."
"Bollocks to the law, what are we really doing?"
"We're...we're trying to...to keep innocent people safe."
"Precisely, love. So you find a way to live with yourself. Because you might've killed a man today, but if you can live with yourself and live with your job, you might save a man tomorrow."
The trauma of ones actions lessened each time a death occurred as, despite themselves, the Aurors normalised these terrible situations in an attempt to cope. But the overwhelming numbness of the first time was not something anybody ever forgot.
And as she sat awkwardly upon the edge of the bath, letting the water gush over her wasted legs, Dora wondered dully if her moral integrity was wasted too to consider Jeff Fawley's death a potential condition for victory.
She gazed down at her bare legs, the scars and withered muscle that he had bestowed upon her and thought of her granddaughter lying asleep in the room next door, tarnished by him just as she was...
She waited to feel remorse.
It didn't come.
And, in her opinion being in entirely the wrong frame of mind to return to a job like hers, Dora's nerves increased tenfold.
Don't do anything stupid, she silently told herself some time later as she stood before the bathroom mirror, clutching the sink for support, and she gained just a little comfort from the thought that she was bound to remain stuck behind a desk most of the time, and no matter how poetic it sounded she was unlikely to kill Jeff Fawley with quill and parchment alone.
"Shall you floo at lunch?" Remus asked her some half an hour later as she sat upon the bed, her legs up as he pulled the boots onto her feet for her, lacing them up tightly and making her wince.
And, to be asked a question he had asked most mornings that she had gone off to work years beforehand, the reality of what she was doing once again struck her dumb.
"Um..."
"We could do coffee. I could bring Pandora with me."
"We'll...we'll see. I'll be sure to floo at some point."
She watched dully as he fiddled with the braces on her legs, testing they were secure before he offered her a smile and told her:
"I do believe you're all set, my darling. Did you see I left toast out on the table for you?"
"Yes. Thanks love."
He helped her carefully back onto her feet and handed her the cane she had discarded up against the wall and as she set off for the sitting room she asked:
"Are you going to wish me luck?"
"No, Dora. If memory serves me right I'd do better to simply wish you home in time for dinner."
Dora gave a groan punctured by an almost-snigger and before she knew it she had wished a pyjama-clad Pandora goodbye, pecked her husband upon the cheek goodbye and had disappeared into the floo.
From the moment she stepped out into the Ministry's Atrium and set about making her way gingerly through the thronging crowds, Dora felt as if she was being stared at. People glanced curiously at her as they passed, muttering to one another and causing their companions to glance round to get a look at her. One balding wizard wearing a polkadot bow tie went so far as to point at her, and Dora positively winced at the gesture. She silently cursed her slow, shuffling progression towards the lifts at the end of the vast room. Somehow it all seemed very alien, and for a moment she felt some comfort to hear a familiar voice greeting her as she came to a halt before the lift doors.
"Morning, Mrs. Lupin."
"Morning Alfie." Dora murmured in response, as she had most mornings back in the day, only to look up to see the then-pimply faced eighteen year old Security Wizard looking far from teenaged and sporting a rather bushy beard.
"Good to have you back!" Alfie told her, reaching to scratch at his receding hairline, and Dora attempted to smile at him, though she suspected she hadn't quite managed it.
"Thank you." she tried instead, fervently wishing the lift would hurry up and arrive. "You're looking...very well..."
"Older, you mean?" he said, grinning knowingly. "Shame, ain't it? Wouldn't it be nice if time stood still?"
"Oh I don't know about time standing still!" Dora muttered, relieved when the doors finally slid open in front of her. "But I'd see it go backwards right now, Alfie, mark my words!"
"Nah, you don't want that." Alfie said as she fumbled a little with her cane, struggling not to feel embarrassed by her slip of the hand, and as she shuffled into the lift the wizard peered meaningfully down at her legs and told her: "They say time's a healer, after all!"
In the lift Dora kept her gaze upon her boots, scowling at the braces and feeling her spirits sink as low as the lift as it plummeted down towards Aurors Headquarters. Once she had stepped out into the deserted corridor she took a moment to attempt to compose herself, drawing in a deep breath and silently commanding herself to pull herself together, then she tried to straighten up and set off down the corridor, not pausing to push open the office door.
Auror Headquarters was surprisingly empty that morning, Dora discovered as she stepped inside. Only a handful of Aurors were at their desks and Dora was just glancing over at the clock to find that she was only a couple of minutes early when one of the Aurors looked up from his examination of some paperwork with a colleague to spot her stood just inside the doorway. He reached sideways to tap a hand on the second Auror's arm, mumbling:
"Um...Albert...?"
Albert Diggory glanced round at the young man before following his gaze. Upon setting eyes upon Dora, he flung the papers he was holding down upon the desk, a broad grin spreading across his face as he straightened up.
"Tonks!" he exclaimed, half-bounding across the office towards her as the other Aurors, none of whom Dora recognised, all turned to stare at her.
"Morning Bertie."
"Thank Merlin, you look so much better!" Albert cried, coming to a halt before her. "We've all been absolutely worried sick about you!"
Dora eyed the strangers at the desks rather doubtfully, and Albert followed her gaze, sobering a little as he confessed:
"Well...perhaps not all of us. You've not met all of us...that's Lester Nash, he's been with us two years now, over there is Carla Bowman who I think qualified the year after you left, so you might've met her when she was training, and that's Finn Grover, he's Hale's nephew..."
Before the Aurors could mumble any form of greeting or before Dora could say anything herself the door to the Deputy's office swung open to reveal another familiar face.
"Good morning Deputy Lupin!" Xander Pikket greeted grandly, causing Albert to give an almost-snigger and Dora might have rolled her eyes at him had she not been so relieved to see another familiar face.
"Hello Xander, how're you keeping?"
"Not bad, not bad! Harry had us clear you a cubicle, you're just outside his door."
"Great," Dora said, shuffling in that very direction, trying to ignore a few of the younger Aurors staring at her legs, and Xander explained:
"You're to sit in with Jasmine once Magical maintenance get round to rearranging the furniture."
"Right..." Dora's eyes widened a little when she discovered her temporary desk piled high with files and parchment, pausing she glanced round at Xander to inquire: "What in Merlin's name is all this?"
"Boss thought you might like to see the permanent records of all the Aurors who qualified since you retired. You know, give you an idea of their individual skills before you go setting them tasks to do."
"Ah, right. Lovely. Where is everybody? It's empty in here!"
"There's been a suspected sighting of Fawley, Harry's taken half the office with him and the other half are on raids for other cases."
"Can I get you a coffee?" Albert asked as he headed for the kettle in the corner, and Dora found herself feeling bordering on relaxed.
"Black as coal, please." she said, reaching to pull out the chair at her desk, musing that her legs were aching something rotten, only for Xander to call:
"Don't sit down, Tonks, Jasmine wants to see you."
At the thought of facing Jasmine so early on in the day, Dora very nearly sighed.
She had been dreading seeing Jasmine ever since she had agreed to come back. It was, Dora was quite convinced, going to be an awkward encounter and without Harry around to tell them both where they stood, the two Deputies were going to have to sort the office hierarchy out amongst themselves, along with Merlin knew what else that might crop up in the conversation.
She couldn't even decide whether to knock upon Jasmine's office door or simply enter uninvited, she realised as she hobbled over to the door in question, and after a lengthy paused she decided to attempt both, rapping a fist sharply upon the door before reaching to open it before a response could be made.
Jasmine Wickes was sat behind her desk, staring down at a letter with a deep frown, only to look up at Dora's shuffling entry into the room.
The two Deputies stared at one another for a long moment, Dora taking in the distinctly unreadable expression upon Jasmine's face, and Jasmine eying the braces clamped around Dora's legs and the cane in her hand, before their eyes met. There was a long silence, before Dora greeted:
"Good morning, Deputy Wickes."
Jasmine gave a soft snort of either amusement or annoyance, Dora wasn't quite sure which, and then she leant forward in her chair a little and said:
"Good morning, Deputy Lupin."
There was another long, awkward pause, before Jasmine finally rose to her feet and muttered:
"What a load of old bollocks, eh?"
And Dora felt as if a weight had been lifted off of her chest.
"Thank Merlin," she muttered as her friend stepped out from behind the desk to stride towards her. "I thought you were going to hex the crap out of me..."
"Would I do that?!" Jasmine asked incredulously, reaching to fling her arms around Dora, narrowly avoiding knocking the air from her lungs.
"You might do, I'm not your boss this time round..."
"Well yeah but I can't go hexing a cripple, can I? I've got some morals, you know! And it's not your fault Harry thinks I'm bloody useless..."
"Nobody thinks you're bloody useless, Jas." Dora insisted as Jasmine drew back from her, only for Jasmine's cheery demeanour to abruptly sour.
"Don't be bloody patronising!" she snapped, turning on her heel to stalk back towards her desk. "I know exactly what everybody thinks of me! You included!"
"You've not a clue what I think, Jasmine." Dora insisted, shuffling after her, very nearly wincing at the sudden change in atmosphere. "And even if you did, what I think isn't relevant. I haven't been here. Can I sit down?"
Jasmine gave a distinctly humourless laugh.
"Can you sit down?" she repeated, dropping down into her own seat so that she could observe her colleague's slow progress across the room. "Bloody hell, can you hear yourself?"
As she sat down anyway, wincing to bend her knees, Dora slumped back in the chair, her gaze drifting up towards the ceiling.
"I'm not trying to patronise you, belittle you or whatever else you think, Jas." she insisted wearily. "It's your office, that's all..."
"I never asked permission to sit down in your bloody office! And I was below you then!"
"In which case you'll be glad to hear I don't give a toss whether or not you want me to sit down, my legs are killing me and I was going to sit down whether you said I could or not."
Jasmine reached to rub a hand across her eyes, frowning deeply.
"Sorry, Tonks." she muttered with a sigh. "It's just...I don't know! Let's be frank, alright? Harry's put us both in a difficult position. I know you...I know you don't want to just waltz in here and undermine me, I know that. But it's difficult for me...having you here without having to defer to you all the time...it's bloody unnatural, that's what it is! I feel like nobody's going to trust my judgement with you around! They'll think you know better than I do! You'll think you know better than I do, I know you will..."
"Jas..."
"...you won't mean to do it, but I bet you will! You'll be comparing my way to your way! You're bloody judging me already and you don't even know it yet!"
"Everybody judges everybody round here, Jas." Dora pointed out grimly. "Right now there's a bunch of youngsters out there probably having a gossip about the fact that one decent hex is going to finish me off! You're judging me right now telling me how I'm going to behave in the future..."
"Then how the hell is this going to work?! Two Deputies, for Merlin's sake! I'm not deferring to you again, I'm sorry! It'd look...you know...!"
"The idea hadn't even crossed my mind." Dora said, only for the office door to open and Albert came striding into the room with a mug of coffee that he set down upon the desk in front of Dora.
"Thanks, Bertie." Dora mumbled as Jasmine scowled in frustration at nothing in particular, and Albert grinned and asked:
"Are we playing nicely, both of you?"
"Get out." Jasmine snapped, shooting him an utterly revolted glare, and he left the office at an almost-jog.
"We've a few options, I think." Dora mused once Bertie had disappeared behind the closed door. "We could split the department and each concern ourselves with half the force...but I think that would be foolish. I don't want to be put in charge of a bunch of strangers, when it comes to who we have here you are the experienced one."
"No doubt I'll be in charge out in the field." Jasmine pointed out, sounding uncharacteristically smug as Dora took a sip of her coffee. "You're in no state to go charging off all over the country."
"Exactly." Dora agreed, trying to ignore her fellow Auror's tone. "I suggest we jointly draw up an agenda each morning, perhaps we'll meet with Harry when possible, and then we can split the responsibilities between us."
"Fine. If we can't agree on who should do what, Harry can have the last say."
"Yes."
"That's not a bad idea. We'd keep a tight reign on everything if we met every morning."
"We certainly would."
"Any disputes can be handled by Harry or Kingsley as soon as they happen. I'm not fighting with you, Tonks. I can't beat you on my own..."
"Nobody needs to fight anybody, Jas."
"You used to pick fights with Harry all the time!"
"That's because we're very different, Harry and I. We're always bound to clash once in a while. But you and I can sort things out without resorting to telling tales and getting the bosses involved, Jas. We're too similar to make a complete mess of things."
Jasmine considered this for a long moment before a broad grin lit up her face to observe:
"What in Merlin's name was Harry thinking of, asking you back here? What's he going to do when we both pick a fight with him together?"
Dora very nearly choked on her coffee.
"Oh Jas," she laughed, slamming the mug triumphantly back down upon the desk. "We'll have him running scared!"
They both laughed at this exclamation, only to lapse into a slightly awkward silence before Jasmine mumbled:
"Right...well, then...!"
Dora struggled to think of what ought happen next. She wanted to ask after Isaac, wanted to get another awful conversation out and done with, but instead she found herself wondering:
"What's...what's on the agenda today, then? Nobody bothered to fill me in before I came."
Jasmine puffed her cheeks in exasperation.
"Oh it's all go around here today!" she said, slapping her hands against the desk in emphasis. "Harry had one of our lot stationed in the muggles' Scotland Yard, his name is George Tipson."
"Another name I've never heard of..." Dora muttered despairingly and Jasmine seemed to sit a little straighter in her chair as if this uncertainty bolstered her own confidence.
"Yes, I suppose there are a lot of people you don't know around here these days. Tipson's a bit of a tosser, actually. That's probably why Harry chose him." she said knowingly as Dora returned to sipping at her coffee, trying to ignore the voice in the back of her head that told her that relations with Jasmine were unlikely to be quite as straightforward as first impressions would suggest. It was as if any small cracks in her knowledge were going to be stored up to be used as a weapon against her at a later date if she accidentally managed to step on Jasmine's toes. Jasmine was, according to Harry and Kingsley, in a distinctly desperate situation of which she was fully aware, and no reassuring words or old comradely was going to entirely eliminate the notion that Dora was potentially a threat. Dora found the situation a depressing one. It wasn't supposed to be like this...
"He's put the muggle police on alert for Fawley too as a potential terrorist suspect. They've had his photograph on the muggle news and everything! That's where everybody's rushed off to this morning, the muggles got contacted by a member of the public claiming they'd seen him."
"Where?"
"Kent. Could be anywhere by now, of course, took a while for the news to filter through to us..."
"Kent?"
"Yeah, Kent. But like I said, he could be anywhere by now, he was pretty near one of the big train stations."
"Which one?"
"Canterbury West."
Dora fumbled to grasp hold of her cane as she struggled hurriedly back onto her feet.
"He's in bloody Canterbury and nobody thought to warn me?!"
"Well I'm telling you now..."
"I live only a few miles from Sturry, for Merlin's sake! That's right on Canterbury's doorstep!"
"You think he wants to come and finish you off or something?" Jasmine sniggered, and as she stumbled over to the fireplace, Dora shot her a distinctly furious glance, snapping:
"We've got Pandora staying with us!"
"Ah..." Jasmine began, only for Dora's fumbling hands to succeed in knocking the pot of floo powder from the mantlepiece, leaving it to shatter upon the carpet, spilling powder out all over the floor as Dora promptly cursed:
"Shit!"
Without thinking she went to drop into a crouch to clear away the mess, only for her legs to buckle underneath her and before she knew it Dora had collapsed sprawled before the fireplace, legs throbbing in protest.
For a long moment, Jasmine simply sat staring at her in surprise, before springing to her feet and hurrying across the room.
"Bloody hell, Tonks..." she muttered as she rushed over, and Dora groaned and wondered:
"What am I doing here, Jas? This is ridiculous..."
"That's what I tell myself all the time." Jasmine admitted, laughing grimly as she hauled her fellow Auror back onto her feet, only for Dora to resort to throwing her arms around her neck in an attempt to keep her balance.
"We must be mad."
"No doubt about it!"
"I mean I...I came out of hospital yesterday afternoon, for Merlin's sake! And here I am! I shouldn't be here, Jas. I should...I should be at home!"
"I know, I don't think I should even be here either. I've left Isaac with his snob of a sister, have you ever met her? She hates my guts and she's a right manipulative bitch, I can tell you! I should definitely be at home!"
"We should both just take the morning off, I think."
"You think?"
"Oh yes. Jeff Fawley and...and all the rest of the scum of the earth can just wait a few bloody hours..."
"Great. I'll just fetch my cloak, shall I?"
"Yes, you do that..."
The two Aurors lapsed into silence, staring at one another in silence for a long moment, before they both cracked a wide grin and Jasmine suggested:
"Try the floo in Harry's office."
"Right."
And with that the two witches each got back to work.
After flooing home to instruct Remus to place all manner of protective spells over the house, Dora sat down at her desk and set about examining the files that Xander had left for her. Her brief tumble had left her feeling disproportionately bruised and sore, and as time ticked on her skim reading grew increasingly sluggish. By the time she had closed the last file she felt as if she might just put her head down upon the desk and have a snooze. She glanced over at the clock to discover that she had yet to be in the office for a full two hours.
Bloody hell, she thought, slumping back in her chair.
It was at that moment that the door to the office creaked open just a crack, and a distinctly nervous looking face peered around the door into the room, eyes darting around searchingly.
"Come in, Esme!" Albert called as he strode across the room, clutching a stack of files, glancing over his shoulder at the young witch. "We don't bite!"
The girl was, Dora discovered when she shuffled into the room, an Auror cadet, likely in her first year of training given how young she looked.
"Is...is Deputy Wickes here?" Esme asked, her shoulders rather hunched as she reached to swipe a quick sleeve across her eyes, and Albert told her:
"She's busy berating Lester for something or other...everything okay?"
At this question, Esme's eyes grew as wide as snitches.
"N...not really, no..." she half-squeaked, fidgeting uneasily where she stood, and before Albert could say a word she promptly burst into tears.
Dora attempted to blink the bleariness from her eyes as she peered around the end of her cubicle at the girl.
"I...I j...just want to...to talk to J...Jasmine..." Esme whimpered, and Dora found herself calling:
"You can come and talk to me if you like, love. I'm not busy. And Bertie always sticks the kettle on and makes tea if I look at him funny."
Albert dropped his files down upon the nearest desk and made a beeline for the kettle.
Esme stared at Dora uncertainly for a long moment, until Albert pointed out:
"That's Deputy Lupin, Esme. Harry told you all she was coming back, remember?"
"Oh..." Esme mumbled, and with that she consented to shuffling over to Dora's desk, whereupon Dora summoned a chair from across the room and suggested she sit down.
"Don't be embarrassed." Dora told her as she rummaged around in the desk drawers in the vain hope of discovering a box of tissues, as Esme watched her, face growing steadily pink. "I've not been here two hours yet and it's already making me want to cry! What's your name?"
"E...Esme Fallon, Deputy Lupin."
"It's just Tonks, actually."
"Oh..."
"Sickle for your thoughts then, Esme?"
Esme Fallon fiddled with a strand of dark hair for a long moment before confessing:
"I...I want to...to quit."
"You want to quit?"
"Yes."
"Auror training, perhaps?"
"Yes, I...I want to quit Auror training. I...I can't do it..."
"Why not?"
"Because...! It's...it's too hard!"
"Yes, that's what they want you to think. It's a form of psychological torture that the department thrives on."
This observation only served to make Esme cry harder than ever.
"Let's try and think about this calmly, Esme." Dora instructed, shifting in her chair to get more comfortable. "What precisely is it about Auror training that you find so hard?"
"The...the Head of...of Aurors..."
"What about him?"
"H...he thinks I'm an idiot!"
"Does he?"
"Yes and he's going to...to sack me for it!"
Dora frowned deeply in bemusement.
"I can't really see that happening, to be honest with you." she said as Albert appeared with two large steaming mugs of tea. "I mean Harry spent half his life pointing out what an idiot he thinks I am...and he's just called me out of retirement, for Merlin's sake! It seems to me that being an idiot is the best way to get yourself hired around here..." she trailed off, frown deepening at her recollection of her last encounter with Harry and how angry he had been with her, how damning he had been.
"I...I was meant to be watching the r...road..."
"Where?"
"In...in Canterbury, I...some of us got taken along to assist the Aurors..."
"Right..." Dora managed to utter, barely resisting the urge to snigger at the notion or mutter something obscene. What in the world was this place coming to, she wondered as Esme continued to sniffle and mumble, when first year Auror cadets got taken out on missions?
"Y...you see some of them are stuck in...in Northumberland on a raid...for...for a different case..."
"I see."
"And when the memo arrived this morning hardly anybody was here because it was so early! So...so Harry took me and...and Ronan with him! And he told me to...to watch the road for Jeff Fawley and not let him pass, but I...I...it was such a crowded street! He...he must've walked right past me and I didn't see him! And Harry is so...so cross with me! He'll...he'll tell Jasmine and...and she'll...she'll never qualify me!"
Ignoring the fact that at this conclusion Esme promptly burst into distinctly hysterical tears, Dora wondered:
"And where are Harry and the others now?"
"S...still there!" Esme managed to choke, leaning to bury her face in her hands. "He sent me away in...in disgrace!"
"Any idea when he's coming back?" Dora asked, frowning down at her boots.
The girl's continued sobbing suggested that no, she did not.
"Listen, Esme love," Dora told her, trying not to dwell upon the fact that really, young people were rather pathetic at times, "I shouldn't worry too much about letting Fawley slip through your fingers. After all, even if he hadn't...you're not qualified yet, you wouldn't know what to do with him if you did catch him! Taking Auror cadets on bloody outings like that and expecting them to actually have some semblance of responsibility...! Merlin, when did Harry become such a bloody moron?! Leave them on watch, maybe! Leave as many of them on watch as you like, let the Aurors get on with some proper work! That way you won't have to ask the bloody cadets to do it for them!"
And at that precise moment, Dora was struck with such a notion that her mouth fell open ever so slightly, causing Esme to stare up at her, expression a mixture of bemusement and apprehension.
"Oh...!" the Deputy Head of Aurors exclaimed, eyes widening as the idea began to fully form in her head. "I am bloody brilliant, Esme! I really am!"
"S...sorry?" Esme sniffer, leaning back in her chair a little, only to jump suddenly when Dora reached to snatch up a blank piece of parchment and a quill.
"Listen, Esme," the Auror said again, without so much as a sideways glance at the girl as she set about scribbling a title atop her page. "This whole thing with Jeff Fawley has really buggered up the department these past few weeks. We've not really had such a widely publicised case in Merlin knows how many years. Truth of the matter is Fawley probably isn't half as dangerous as everybody thinks he is; it's just his methods are unorthodox, which has people both interested and scared, and he's made a point right from the beginning to cause a stir with the public. It's like years back when the Death Eaters used to go around shooting the Dark Mark all over the sky before trouble had barely started! Snapping a bunch of wands is Fawley's attempt to make a mark to be known by, just like Voldemort had the Dark Mark. That sort of thing puts a whole lot of pressure on us and gives Fawley an extra weapon to use against us. It's a very stressful time for the department leadership and I'm sorry if they've been screwing you around, making a mess of training and sending you out on ridiculous assignments. But you mustn't let it get to you. Nobody's going to think you're useless just because they're currently doing a pretty haphazard job of training you. They'll not put you in for exams until they've bucked their ideas up a bit! And certainly nobody's going to be judging you on what happened today, it's not part of your training! And even if it was, you'd be hard-pressed to sack a qualified Auror for a innocent slip up like that. These things happen, they happened to me more times than I'd care to admit, but nobody ever crucified me for it. And nobody will ever crucify you for anything around here, Esme, if you can show a strong backbone and keep your head held high! So if Harry has the nerve to grumble at you next time you bump into him...because he might do, after all this whole mess seems to have turned him into a right git these days...you tell him he should stop being such a tosser and that you never should have been in bloody Canterbury in the first place!"
Esme looked shocked.
"I...I can't say that to the Head of Aurors!" she cried, positively alarmed at the notion, and Dora glanced round at her, frowning deeply.
"Why ever not?"
"Because...! What would he say?!"
"He'd tell you to stay clear of me, Esme, because I'm obviously a bad influence. Don't worry, then. I'll be sure to tell him myself when I see him. Why don't you take the afternoon off? Go home, have a nice hot bath and put your feet up. I'll tell our Lord and Master that you are sick. Right after I've told him to stop being a tosser."
Esme, if possible, looked more shocked than ever. After nearly a minute of staring at the side of Dora's head, she managed to utter:
"Th...thank you, Deputy Lupin..."
"Cheers, Tonks." Dora suggested instead, and the girl took another age to manage:
"Yes...cheers, Tonks!"
"And don't let Harry get to you. He's a decent guy, I'm sure he appreciated your efforts even if they didn't go quite to plan. People can be stupid in the heat of the moment. He's bound to apologise profusely later. He always does."
"Really?"
"Oh yes, there's no doubt."
Esme rose slowly from her chair and shot Dora a grateful, if rather watery smile, and as the two witches murmured farewell to one another, Dora could help but recall the distinctly irritating fact that after their broom crash of a conversation in St. Mungo's, Harry had yet to apologise to her.
It was not until half an hour later that Aurors began to flood back into the office, and Dora watched them troop back to their desks, eying each one in turn in search of friendly faces.
Her son, midway through murmured conversation with a witch she recognised as Katricia Attsworth who had qualified the same year as Teddy, paused in his conversation to offer her a raised eyebrow in greeting, and when Dora smiled vaguely back at him his companion offered her a wave.
Dora was about to raise a hand to wave back when she caught sight of Harry walking through the door. Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds before Dora felt compelled to return to staring determinedly at the papers in front of her.
It was not long before a shadow fell across her desk, and yet Dora did not look up, instead concentrating on scribbling a loopy signature at the bottom of a page.
"Getting stuck in already!" Harry Potter observed quietly, and the witch frowned a little down at her composition before agreeing:
"Mm."
"Jasmine's...filled you in on everything, I suppose?"
"Mm."
"And you're fine, the two of you? You've sorted yourselves out..."
"Mmhm."
"Oh good. That's good...great, even! It's great, Tonks, it really is! I mean it's great to have you back..." Harry trailed off, shuffling his feet a little sheepishly, barely relaxing when Dora consented to looking up and offering him a smile.
"How...how are things?" he asked when she failed to say anything. "How are you finding it? Being back here?"
"It's wretched." Dora informed him frankly, tossing down her quill and leaning back in her chair, reaching to stretch her arms up above her head. "I'm not going to lie, Harry, I feel utterly wretched. The office is full of people I don't know, one moment I think Jasmine and I are fine and the next I think she's about to start plotting against me and it's making me paranoid about my own friend, I've fallen and smashed a pot of floo powder all over the Deputy's office, one of your cadets has been sobbing her heart out to me before the day's barely started, and to top it all off ever since I fell over this morning my knees have been giving me utter agony."
Harry's expression suggested that this made him feel quite wretched himself.
"Well," he said, reaching to push his glasses a little further up his nose. "I don't suppose it'll matter to you, but just so you know, I'm dead grateful you're here. Everybody is..."
"Even Jasmine?"
"Especially Jasmine. She just...she just doesn't always realise it..."
"Merlin...!"
"I mean I don't think she quite realises anything going on in her head these days, so...you know, I'm sure she's glad to have you back when...when she manages to think straight!"
Dora offered Harry a raised eyebrow. The Head of Aurors reached to scratch the back of his neck, looking distinctly sheepish, before glancing around the office.
"Look," he said once he had observed the hustle and bustle of the room around them. "Can I have a word in my office? It won't take minute, I just want to..."
"No."
"What?"
"I'm not walking a single step until lunchtime, it's both painful and bloody humiliating. If you've something to tell me you'll just have to tell me here." Dora flinched a little at her tone, she hadn't intended to be so obviously off with him, but right now she felt as if she would be off with anybody, let alone Harry after their previous encounter.
Harry pursed his lips together, glancing around again in consideration before sighing heavily.
"Alright then," he said, turning to lean back against the desk, folding his arms across his chest. "I could um...I could send one of the cadets to fetch you pain relief potions if...if you think it'd help..."
"I took a double strength one before I came in this morning, can't take another until lunchtime. It's no use, Harry. I'm supposed to be on bed rest for at least another few days, if I'm going to ignore the hospital's instructions I'll just have to put up with it."
"Well...well you know, don't you, that you can go home whenever you like...I'm not going to complain."
"That's very considerate of you, Harry."
The two of them lapsed into silence for a moment before Dora prompted:
"You wanted to tell me something?"
"Yes..." Harry mumbled, leaning further back against the desk and sighing heavily. After a moment he turned more to face her in order to meet her eye. "It's just I've been thinking, Tonks, about the other day. When I came to see you."
"Ah."
"Yes, it was very...very inconsiderate, the way I spoke to you. It was inconsiderate of me to expect you to just agree to coming back at the drop of a hat...even if...even if that's what you've actually done! I shouldn't have reacted the way I did when you turned me down, it wasn't fair on you and it was...well it was childish of me to try and make you feel bad about it. I was just...well...well I suppose this is childish too, but I was feeling rather desperate for you to come and...and wave a wand and make things better! Jasmine had gotten to me something rotten that morning, sometimes I just don't know what to do with her! You've always been better at handling her than me, and the thought of coming back here knowing I was going to have to try and sort this all out on my own...! I know that's...that's what I'm here for, Tonks, but sometimes it's...it's a bit much! Sometimes I just feel like I deserve a bit of help! But the truth is I don't deserve any help from you. Not when I spoke to you like that. And what you're doing here...what possessed you to...to shun bed rest and drag yourself over here to help me out...well it's a complete mystery to me after what I said! But whatever made you do it...I'm really, really glad!"
Dora frowned down at the golden phoenix pin she had discovered that morning still pinned to her robes from years earlier.
"I said I'd come back because no matter how you posed the question, there was only one right answer." she confessed, shifting uneasily in her chair. "But I'm not sure that's why I got up and put these robes on this morning. I think I'm here more out of...out of spite and murderous rage than anything else! And I know that's...that's a dangerous thing, Harry. So don't hesitate to point that out to me when I fly off the rails and...and do something stupid..."
"You won't fly off the rails, Tonks. You're going to keep the rest of us on them."
"Is that why you asked me back? Merlin help us all, then, we're going to crash and burn!"
"Ron and I have a theory." Harry said, lips pursed in amusement. "If we stuff enough nutcases in these cubicles here at some point one of them is going to think clearly and rationally, if only for a second."
"What if we need more than a second?" Dora wondered with a huff of laughter, and Harry shrugged and told her:
"Then we might as well cut the brake cords and have done with it!"
And the pair of them laughed, he reaching to slap a hand down upon her shoulder before she sobered a little, gesturing to the papers in front of her.
"I've had," she informed him cheerfully, "the most fantastic idea, I think you're going to like it..."
Pandora stepped out of the bathroom that morning, sodden hair wrapped up in a towel and her grandmother's thick, fluffy dressing gown wrapped tightly around her, to find the sitting room empty and a series of strange multicoloured lights casting a eerie glow through the net curtains.
The teenager hurried across the room to push aside a curtain, peering out into the front garden, whereupon she spied her grandfather stood just inside the garden gate, wand raised high in the air, an open book balanced precariously in the crook of his arm.
Pandora went to pull the front door open, taking a careful bare-footed step out onto the front step.
"Grandad!" she called as the werewolf paused in his continuous muttering to carefully turn a page of the leather bound tome. "What're you doing?"
"Hm?"
"I said: what are you doing?!"
"Oh! Nothing, Sweetheart."
"It doesn't look like nothing!"
"I'm just setting a few wards, that's all. I should stay inside if I were you, looks like rain!"
"What sort of wards?!"
"Just the usual!"
"The usual? I've never seen you setting wards before!"
"Yes, well...! Your Nana and I usually set them last thing at night, it's more dramatic to do these things under the cover of darkness...old people have to pretend even the most dull things are exciting sometimes, you know! Won't you put the kettle on for me? I rather fancy a cup of tea!"
Sighing heavily, Pandora shuffled back inside and went to set the kettle to boil, wondering quite what wards her grandparents would bother to place over a house like this.
Her father had set wards over the house back in Eddington, Imogen had said, to keep the news reporters from the door, and he sometimes set wards to protect the house itself if bad weather was afoot. There were dark clouds blotted across the morning sky, and yet Pandora suspected protection against the elements wasn't really what her grandfather had in mind. She supposed they might set muggle repelling wards out of habit, despite the fact that the muggle village down the hill from the cottage probably had a population around the size of the cul-de-sac Pandora lived in, and despite the fact that the cottage was shielded from the winding lane down to the village by enough trees and greenery to leave most people entirely unaware that it even existed...
Her grandparents probably weren't the sort of people to do something just for the sake of it. Doing things for no real reason at all was the sort of thing Nana Dora could no doubt grumble about for hours...
Pandora went to dress in her grandparents' bedroom before dragging a comb through her went hair. By the time she reappeared in the sitting room her grandfather had come inside and was bustling around the kitchen making jam on toast.
Spying the leather bound book he had been holding discarded upon the arm of the sofa, Pandora went to examine it's cover. The lettering stamped upon the battered leather in faded gold had grown faint, Pandora had to squint to see it. It appeared to be written in Latin, therefore she gained little understanding of it save for the English subtitle declaring it to be a Third Edition. Pandora ran a careful thumb down the spine, before reaching to pick it up. It seemed surprisingly heavy for it's size, and Pandora reached to open it at a random page.
She had barely caught sight of a grotesque illustration of a medieval man in peasant-garb floating mid-air in a forest clearing, his body bent and twisted out of shape, face frozen in an agonising scream, when a sudden wind seemed to whip through the sitting room with a hiss. Pandora jumped, grip upon the book tightening as her hair blew into her eyes, and the hissing seemed to grow louder, the wind stronger, shaking the window frames of the house and casting the curtains up into the air. The entire room seemed to tremble and Pandora drew a sharp breath, slamming the book shut again.
And suddenly the hissing wind was gone.
"I shouldn't look in there if I were you."
At the sound of her grandfather's voice, Pandora jumped again. She spun around to find him making his way slowly across the room, a plate laden with toast in his hand.
"Let's eat this before it gets cold, Lala." he suggested as he passed her, heading for the little table in the corner.
Pandora looked back down at the book.
"What...what is this, Grandad?" she asked, not moving to follow him. "What's in this book?"
"It's a book of Medieval Defence spells." Remus told her as he set the plate down upon the table, pulling out a chair so that he could ease himself down onto it.
"Well it seems rather offensive, if you ask me." Pandora said, setting the book down upon the arm of the sofa with a soft thump. Her grandfather's subsequent laughter did not amuse her. "What are you doing, Grandad," she asked as she crossed the room to join him, "reading spells out of a book like that?"
When Remus chose to take a generous bite of his toast rather than respond straight away, she told him:
"It looks like a book of Dark Magic to me."
"That is rather a matter of opinion, Pandora." her grandfather told her, offering her a raised eyebrow, and she folded her arms across her chest and informed him:
"It's not funny, Grandad. What were you doing with it?"
"Medieval witches and wizards had a rather...medieval approach to defensive magic. They rather believed that one must be on the offence in order to be on the defence. Maybe we'll label it Dark Magic these days, but back then they probably simply felt that anybody trespassing deserved brutal consequences."
"So it is Dark Magic." Pandora said as she dropped down into a chair. "We don't live in the Middle Ages!"
"Then yes, it's Dark Magic. In the later chapters, at least. Your grandmother inherited the book from Alastor Moody, it's really rather fascinating. The earlier chapters have some perfectly reasonable suggestions regarding ward theory that I find particularly useful and all together harmless."
Pandora shuddered.
"What does the title mean?" she asked, and Remus reached to push the plate of toast towards her.
"I must confess my Latin is rusty, but it's known as the Book of Muggle Folly, texts on defence against torch and pitchfork-wielding muggle peasants, I believe. It's been out of print for decades."
"It's a book on...on defending against muggles?"
"I don't think we need to defend against them, Lala. They're not trying to attack us! Eat up, won't you? Your mother is popping over for tea this morning, we shall have to tidy up around here."
"Why?"
"Because it's a dreadful mess and I don't want your mother running around brandishing a feather duster like a deadly weapon and insisting on clearing up after us!"
"I mean why is she coming?"
"I hear she has been baking, we thought we might sit and have tea and cake and a little chat, that's all..."
That, Pandora discovered some hour later, was not all.
Carrie's arrival made the morning seem quite bright and cheery to begin with. She arrived via the floo with a tin of chocolate muffins and amused Pandora for some while quizzing Remus over the state of the cottage and whether or not she ought have a quick tidy round.
"For the love of Merlin, Carrie," the werewolf murmured as he set the muffins upon and plate and sent them whizzing a little too enthusiastically out of the kitchen and onto the coffee table, making Pandora wince at the possibility of smashed china, "don't fuss, we've more important things to do this morning."
And then the two adults had joined Pandora sat upon the sofa and they had sipped at their tea in silence for a moment before Carrie had said:
"Dad and I had a chat last night, Pan, and we were wondering if...if perhaps you had given any thought to...to what you want to do about...the baby."
Pandora simply stared at her.
She hadn't really thought about The Baby before.
She had thought about being pregnant, about being in trouble, about it being a mess...
But she hadn't thought about having a baby, about what being pregnant actually meant...
Pandora didn't really know much about babies. There had been a few baby Weasleys and Potters born in recent years, she saw them on occasion when Teddy's cousins dropped in for visits every once in a while, though the family was by now so large that this only happened rarely and many of the cousin's spouses and young offspring seemed like almost-strangers. The family gathering en-mass at The Burrow happened once in a blue moon, it was an unspoken agreement that such a thing was all a bit much for widow Molly Weasley who was by now in her nineties. Molly had seemed ancient and frail for most of Pandora's lifetime, though Pandora suspected she was going to be one of those people who simply refused to reach the end of her life. She would likely be alive long enough to see her own grandchildren retire.
Her mother's side of the family was distinctly lacking babies. In Carrie's immediate family the last baby to be born was Timothy's son Robin. Uncle Thomas was a permanent bachelor, and though Carrie had a number of cousins she had very little contact with them. Indeed, Carrie was not terribly close with any members of her family except for her brothers, having felt quite disconnected from the family in her late teens when her parents had been confined to St. Mungo's and she had been Obliviated.
Pandora wasn't sure she really wanted a baby. She wasn't sure she would know what to do with it. She'd probably drop it, make it cry, make it scream the house down until the neighbours complained...
She wanted one eventually, probably. When she was older and married. Because that was what people did, she supposed, and it would be nice to have a family of her own, nice to have a child to love and look after, to watch them grow up...
But she wasn't older. She wasn't married. It wouldn't be a family of her own, would it? Did she and a baby constitute a family? How would she help it grow up when she wasn't even grown up herself? She could love a baby, she suspected. Every mother loved her own baby, it was natural, it wasn't difficult, surely? But would that be enough? Was it enough to simply love your child?
She recalled her mother's stories of when she had been born, of the overwhelming sense of love that Carrie had felt to set eyes upon her. Carrie had said there was no emotion so overwhelming or strong as a mother's love.
Remus said it was magic. Not just magic, but the most powerful magic that ever there was!
A magic so powerful that even a Squib could do it, Pandora realised, and if it was that unfathomably powerful then surely it was enough! If love was so powerful then surely it was enough for, well, anything!
And there was nothing more pure than the love of a child for it's parent. Pandora could barely imagine it in comparison to the tainted, false love that Jeff had had for her. To think what that must feel like, what it was to have a child love you unconditionally, unwaveringly, wholly...
Pandora felt quite overcome with the notion...
"Um..." she mumbled, shifting awkwardly in her chair, and her mother reached to rest a hand upon her knee.
"It's alright if you haven't thought about it yet." Carrie said as Remus sipped at his tea. "But I think the sooner we all sit and have a talk about it and decide what should be done, the sooner we all stop worrying about it, alright love?"
"Alright..." Pandora mumbled, feeling her cheeks go pink. When the adults looked at her rather expectantly she asked: "What do you think I should do, Mum?"
Carrie frowned deeply.
"Well I...I can't really say, love." she confessed slowly, running a finger around the edge of her teacup. "Because really it shouldn't be about what I think, or what Dad thinks or what anybody thinks, really. What matters is what you think. It's all about you, at the end of the day."
There was a long silence.
Pandora didn't really know what to say.
"But," Remus put in once it became apparent that conversation had promptly dried up, "what we can all do is give you an idea of what your options are."
"Exactly!" Carrie agreed, sounding relieved at his input. "And then we can discuss what...what the pros and cons are of those different options."
"Okay..." Pandora mumbled, reaching to draw her knees up to her chest, hugging them tightly. "What...what're the...the options?"
"Well," Carrie said, pausing to clear her throat a little as if trying to help the words flow a little better. "There are, I suppose, three options. You can...you can keep the baby, you can have the baby adopted, or you can...you can...not have the baby at all."
Pandora's grip upon her legs tightened, her chin coming to rest atop her knees, eyes screwed shut.
"How does...how does anybody ever...ever decide what's right..." she whispered miserably, feeling herself tremble at the mere thought. "How can anyone figure...figure that out?"
"It's not an uncommon dilemma, Lala. But what's right for one person won't ever be quite right for another. One simply...weighs up the options and refuses to look back once the decision is made."
"You make it sound simple, Grandad." Pandora accused, feeling abruptly agitated. "You always make...make everything sound simple! What do you know about it anyway?!"
Carrie winced at her daughter's abruptly raised voice, though Remus was, as always, entirely unshakable.
"More than you imagine, I expect." he said, smiling faintly. "And yet, at the same time, absolutely nothing at all." As Carrie reached to slide an arm around Pandora's shoulders, easing the girl sideways until her head came to rest upon the muggle's shoulder, the werewolf confessed: "Your grandmother and I never set out to have children, Pandora. We never planned for your father to come along when he did, nor did we intend for Nana to fall pregnant a second time some years later. But it happened, and when it did we had to decide what was to be done about it. We both thought long and hard about it on both occasions and as individuals we had very different ideas about what ought happen next. Had it been solely my decision, I somewhat doubt that we would all be sitting here now having this discussion..."
"Y...you would've...you would've...?!"
"I was, and perhaps still am, of the opinion that anybody embroiled in the midst of a war, as your grandmother and I were back then, who thinks that is an appropriate time to bring a vulnerable infant into the world is without doubt an idiot. Poor timing aside, back then I wasn't at all enamoured with the notion of fatherhood, the whole concept frightened me at least as much as Voldemort did. I didn't think I could do it, I didn't think it fair on your mother or the child, knowing what a struggle things would be with my condition. I'd never heard of a werewolf having offspring before, I was afraid your father might be born a lycanthrope himself. I was in no sound mind whenever I tried to think about what had happened. If it had been up to me at that time, your father would not have been born. And that would have been the worst decision, there's no doubt about it! Luckily for all of us, it was ultimately your grandmother's choice and there was never a single doubt in her mind that she would keep the baby, whether I wanted to be it's father or not. She agreed that it was idiotic to have a baby in the middle of a war, however she flippantly pointed out that she had never claimed not to be an idiot!"
Pandora thought she might just snigger, but the dull weight of the conversation left her to merely blink. She was still shocked at the notion that her grandfather might have seen her father never born. The whole implications of getting rid of a baby seemed more startling by far when one had the chance to see the child in question grown and living his life. It was frightening. It made the girl think of the possible life her own child might have and the startling idea of that possibility being gone in one single instant, on her own say-so...
"After so many deaths during the War, the second time she fell pregnant unexpectedly," Remus recalled, gaze drifting thoughtfully up towards the ceiling, "she told me frankly that she couldn't not keep it because she felt as if we'd witnessed enough death as it was and life was a blessing...and again, as far as I was concerned it was entirely her decision. I didn't bother to entirely make my own mind up, that time round. I wasn't quite sure what I would do, if it were all up to me. I was rather old to be a father again, the family finances were in dire straights and it all seemed rather foolish. But we'd done it once in worse circumstances, there was no reason why we couldn't do it again. Teddy was getting older, he'd be less of a financial burden by the time the baby was old enough to demand expensive things like school books and equipment, and we could make do with Teddy's baby old things...your grandmother's salary was much higher than before, we were in difficulty but ultimately we had fewer debts to worry about...we felt confident that we would cope, one way or another. Of course we...we never had to cope, ultimately we lost our second child, but my point is there are lots of different considerations, even for your grandmother and I at different times in our lives."
"It sounds like there are...are endless things to think about..." Pandora mumbled miserably, and Carrie gave her shoulder a squeeze.
"Not quite endless, love. We'll think it all through properly! We'll make sure we all talk about it, we'll try and think of everything! We'll think about life goals, about the effect on the rest of the family, about what you think morally...we'll even think about...about how much a bag of nappies costs down the corner shop! It's all important, and you don't have to worry because we'll be sure to talk about all of it until you're quite sick of talking and by then you'll know what you want to do, I'm sure of it."
And so they talked.
They talked of single parenthood, of the burdens and responsibilities that came with it, of what was and was not reasonable to expect when it came to support from Pandora's own parents. They talked of Teddy's salary stretching a little further, of Carrie giving up a few more days of work each week to stay at home with the baby. They talked of their responsibilities as Pandora's mother and father in contrast to their entitlements morally not have to entirely raise a child that wasn't theirs.
They talked of Pandora's education, of the difficulties of raising a baby and attending college at the same time. They talked of not going back to college at all, of whether or not she might regret such a decision later. They talked of growing up too fast, of the isolation and alienation of other people her age.
And yet they talked of love and what was born of it; determination, self worth and purpose, a clear place in the world from which to move forward.
They talked of the long debated question as to the precise beginnings of life and what it meant to end it, of the possibility of regret later on, of whether or not Pandora believed getting rid of the baby was even an option in the first place.
Pandora wasn't sure.
Indeed, no matter how much they talked, she did not feel as if she was sure about anything.
The notion of being a single parent and attempting to be responsible was a daunting one. But the realisation of adding to her parents' responsibilities felt quite shameful to her and yet wholly necessary if she was to keep the child. Thinking about college was equally as bemusing, for Pandora knew that she would hate attending college, whether she had a baby to think of or not. But she felt so overwhelmingly naïve and foolish that she suspected she might very well regret throwing her education down the drain, even if she couldn't entirely see why at this moment in time. She wondered if she would feel alienated from her friends or whether they might stand by her enough to somehow make her feel like a normal teenage girl every once in a while...
Three cups of tea, a substantial amount of cake and a whole lot of confusing talk later, the only thing Pandora felt sure about was that eventually something, somewhere was going to make sense.
After all, her mother seemed quite adamant that it would, even if Pandora couldn't see it happening herself.
But for now, Pandora was tired of talking.
And so it was that whilst her mother and grandfather disappeared into the kitchen to tidy away the tea things, no doubt still discussing the whole baffling situation in serious murmurs, Pandora slipped over to the front door. She pulled on her shoes and, after brief deliberation, pulled one of her grandmother's cloaks down from the cloak stand, threw the soft fabric around her shoulders, and slipped out of the door.
Outside it was surprisingly chilly for the time of year and as she picked her way down the ramshackle garden path and out through the front gate, Pandora pulled the cloak tightly round her shoulders. The silvery material whipped against her in the breeze and Pandora inhaled deeply the faded scent of her grandmother's favourite perfume. The faint fruity smell that had adorned Dora's clothes and person for as long as her granddaughter could remember was a comforting presence as Pandora turned briefly onto the lane, before taking a turn off of the path and into the woods that circled the Lupin cottage. The wind whispering through the trees and the soft rustling of leaves under her feet seemed calming and peaceful, and though she had no route in mind, Pandora set off deeper into the woods, basking in the chilly fruit infused air, breathing deeply in an attempt to relax. Wherever she was going, she'd get away from it all, if only for a few minutes. She had spent hours as a child running through these trees, she knew the paths through the woods like the back of her hand and as she absentmindedly kicked up leaves and swung her arms up into the air, Pandora felt at home and at ease. Trying to put all thoughts of babies and her potentially impending motherhood aside, Pandora instead wondered how Dora's first day back at the Ministry was going and whether or not she would find time to meet Pandora and Remus for coffee at lunch as had been suggested. Pandora's experience of her father's time at work recently suggested that this was all highly unlikely. She wondered how Aurors coped, working such long and gruelling hours. She could never stand a job like that, no matter what the salary. Gaze drifting up towards the treetops as she wandered through the trees on a route to nowhere in particular, Pandora found herself contemplating the notion of working in the great outdoors. She rather liked nature, liked being surrounded by the peacefulness of it. That would be the kind of job she would long for, she mused as she paused to run a hand down a smooth tree trunk, tapping her fingers thoughtfully against the wood. Something outdoors, something out in the fresh air! The girl raised her face into the wind just as the first droplets of rain began to fall from the sky, looping her arm around the tree trunk as she absentmindedly swung around the tree, the cloak billowing out behind her...
Pandora heard something rustling amongst the trees behind her and she hastily tightened her grip upon the tree trunk, bringing her twirling movement to an abrupt halt. Peering out from behind the tree, she squinted around searchingly for the source of the noise, only for a startlingly familiar voice calling to make her jump violently, narrowly avoiding striking her head against the tree.
"Pandora...?"
Pandora's nails instantly dug into the bark in shock, her whole body going rigid as she jumped back behind the tree.
No, the girl told herself firmly, it's not...him! It can't be, that's not...that's just not possible!
"Pan?" called the voice again, very nearly making Pandora sink towards the woodland floor in a panic. "Is...is that you?"
In an abrupt bout of hysteria, Pandora very nearly shouted: No, it isn't!
And as the girl clamped a hand down across her mouth and attempted to decide what to do next, all coherent thought promptly disappeared as she heard more rustling footsteps and mere meters away Jeff Fawley came staggering out from behind a large oak tree, leaning heavily against it as he took a moment to set his feet firmly upon the ground.
His clothes were ragged and his hair unkept and from his slumped posture Pandora felt, as she dared a glance around the tree at him, that he as perhaps in a poor state of one sort or another. His breathing was gasping as if he was struggling to catch his breath, his face pale and eyes gaunt. The sight of him, as wretched as he was, made Pandora positively tremble in fear.
And then he looked up, his gaze piercing the very tree that Pandora was stood behind, and Pandora's heart stopped dead in her chest when he called:
"Come out, Sweetheart, I know you're there!"
Pandora tried wildly to recall the way back towards the cottage, thought desperately of simply making a run for it, of screaming and shouting for her mother and grandfather at the top of her lungs, but she couldn't seem to think, couldn't seem to remember the way...
She dared to glance around the tree again, only to find Jeff looking straight at her.
Their eyes locked and Pandora felt a lump rise in her throat...
She tried to blink, tried to look away...
And as Jeff straightened up a little, Pandora caught sight of a large rip in his shirt, revealing a deep, bloodied wound just to the side of his collarbone...
And as her eyes darted away from the gruesome sight, Pandora found herself caught under his powerful gaze once again.
"Please, Pan," he called, taking a small step forward as his eyes pinned the girl to the spot. "Please help me!"